


Finding Shelter (The Alien Baby Remix)

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, M/M, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: “Let me get this straight,” Keith grits out. “You called us all the way here because you can’t find a place forone kid?Are you kidding me? How can you not have the resources for one kid?”“As I said,” the ambassador answers. “It isn’t a matter of resources or infrastructure. We cannot find those who would take the infant in.”“Why the hell not?” Keith snaps.Variet blinks, as if the answer should be obvious. “Because he is Galra.”A visit to a small coalition planet in an outer sector leads to a little more than Keith or Shiro bargained for.





	Finding Shelter (The Alien Baby Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Little One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996159) by [arcadenemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadenemesis/pseuds/arcadenemesis). 



> For the [sheithremix](https://twitter.com/sheithremix), I was so thrilled to get [Em](https://twitter.com/copilotsheith), whose work I absolutely adore. The things about Em's works that I love as a reader, however, proved to be a challenge as a remixer because the works are so expansive and comprehensive! It felt redundant to try to add anything or reimagine anything when, in every fic, sheith were already perfect. I seriously went through about four different fics to remix with four different options/ideas and none of them felt right. 
> 
> That's why I eventually decided on remixing an MDZS fic into sheith instead rather than try to revamp the sheith fics which were already quintessential and beautifully sheith-y. 
> 
> Thanks for having so many wonderful fics to choose from, Em! And thanks for giving me the excuse I needed to go back and reread all of your stuff. 
> 
> I hope you all like my take on this! ♥ 
> 
> Finally, endless thanks to [Spooky](https://twitter.com/spooky_foot) who read through an earlier draft of this fic to make sure I was staying true to MDZS canon, of which I know exactly nothing, and to the spirit of Em's fic.
> 
> (Edited December 2019 for typos/grammar.)

“We’re a little over a varga out from Xols,” Shiro announces, closing the transmission from the Vrerecan ambassador. 

“Got it,” Keith answers, eyes on the endless expanse of space. 

It’s been a quiet journey to the Seldrik Quadrant and Keith’s taken to drifting in the slower moments. They’re ahead of schedule and they’ve gotten to the quadrant well before the Xols sun’s expected solar storm. 

Keith wouldn’t necessarily say he’s on edge, but he hates going into things blind. Relative peace on the journey over aside, Keith can’t help but ask, “When do you think they’re going to say why they’ve called us, and only us, all the way out here?” 

“You’re saying that like you think it’s a trap,” Shiro teases, grinning as he checks their navigation system and changes their bearing by sixteen degrees. It’s effortless, cosmic navigation second nature for them after years of space-faring. Shiro glances at Keith sidelong, his grin softening into that fond smile he always sends Keith when he thinks he’s being cute. 

Keith rolls his eyes, more for show than anything else, and crosses his arms as he kicks his feet up onto the dashboard, lounging back. The seats in their flyer don’t recline, but that’s hardly going to stop him. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious,” he says with only a touch of stubbornness coloring his voice. 

Shiro snorts at the mere idea of Keith being cautious and not damnably reckless. Sugary sweet and not even trying to hide his amusement, Shiro says, “Whatever you say, baby.” 

Affection pools in Keith’s gut at that, but he hides his smile against his palm instead of showing it. He knows Shiro catches the smile anyway because he laughs quietly, then turns his eyes to the viewscreen, skipping their little flyer easily through the Seldrik asteroid field. 

As they fall again into a comfortable silence, Keith finds himself staring at Shiro, as he often does. He traces his eyes along the slope of Shiro’s nose, his steady hands as he pilots their ship. Inevitably, though, Shiro notices Keith’s attention. He turns his head, eyebrows lifting in silent question. 

“Just thinking you’re handsome,” Keith confesses, and grins wider when Shiro’s cheeks turn pink. 

“Keith,” Shiro laughs, both in admonishment and delight. 

“What? Like you can stop me from thinking it,” Keith teases and makes sure Shiro’s looking when he sweeps his eyes over him, giving him a thorough once-over. “Mmm…” he hums while Shiro’s ears turn pink to match the rest of his face. “Yep. Definitely the most handsome man in the universe.” 

“That’s you,” Shiro shoots back, his smile shy. 

Keith shakes his head, dropping his feet down and standing up. He hops from the co-pilot’s seat and settles easily onto Shiro’s lap just to watch his eyes widen. 

“Keith—” 

“Hi,” Keith answers, draping his arms over Shiro’s strong shoulders, fingers brushing along the soft buzz of his undercut. 

Shiro looks amused, one hand still gripping the controls but his other coming to smooth along the small of Keith’s back and then cup his hip. He’s hardly pushing Keith away, not that Keith thought he would. 

“We can’t fall behind schedule,” Shiro scolds without heat, his hand a heavy brand on Keith’s hip. 

“We _could_ have done this this morning if you hadn’t slept in,” Keith says, nosing at Shiro’s cheek and pressing a light kiss to the sharp cut of his jaw. 

“We can wait until we get planet-side,” Shiro insists even as he tips his head back and lets Keith press a smattering of kisses against his blushing skin. His hand squeezes Keith’s hip, encouraging. 

Keith shakes his head, dragging his teeth over Shiro’s skin, nibbling his ear. “Who knows what they’re going to ask us to do once we get there,” Keith says. “We might not have time.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” 

Keith bites Shiro’s neck. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark but there’s the promise of one behind the sharp nip of Keith’s teeth— and he knows how much Shiro likes that. Shiro sucks in a sharp, pleased breath and hums as Keith nuzzles him, pressing a soothing kiss to Shiro’s pulse point. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers and heat pools in Keith’s belly. 

When Keith doesn’t respond, Shiro’s hand fists Keith’s braid and tugs, pulling Keith back. Keith can’t help the low whine that draws from him— it always does and Shiro knows it. It never fails to work him up and Shiro knows that, too. He squirms in Shiro’s lap. 

“Are you really going to tell me to stop?” Keith asks. 

Now it’s Shiro who rolls his eyes, his hand coiling his braid up tight as he coaxes Keith into a kiss. Keith melts into him and kisses him back, a gentle sweep of his tongue and a swallowing of Shiro’s breath.

“Never,” Shiro murmurs against his mouth. Keith bites his lower lip just to feel the swell of Shiro’s answering smile.

It isn’t as if Keith didn’t already know the answer, anyway. At the end of the day, Shiro denies him very little. He licks Shiro’s lips and sucks his tongue into his mouth and, for several moments, that seems to be all Shiro can focus on. His hand flexes at his hip and then slides up his side. 

Shiro sighs once they draw back. “Guess we’re doing this.” 

“Don’t sound like it’s a chore. I’ll get insulted.” 

Shiro laughs at Keith’s pout and leans in to kiss him again, sweet and lingering. “As I’m sure you’re very aware,” he murmurs against his mouth, “my husband can be very demanding.” 

“Oh, yeah. How you must suffer, Shiro.” 

“Truly.” Shiro tugs playfully on Keith’s braid again. 

Keith chuckles, cupping the back of Shiro’s head and kissing him deeper, sweeping his tongue into his mouth and swallowing Shiro’s breathlessly pleased _Keith._ Keith rolls his hips just to emphasize the point, just to make Shiro’s breath hitch. Suffer, indeed. 

“So,” Keith declares, pointedly, once they break their kiss, tracing his fingers over the smooth skin of Shiro’s cheeks. “What do you want to do?” 

“I love you,” Shiro whispers, teasing, and still just hearing that is enough to make Keith feel breathless, “but do I love you enough to deal with getting out of these suits and that whole headache?” 

“Yes,” Keith says and kisses Shiro’s nose. 

“You’re right,” Shiro sighs, dramatically, and adds, “stupid question.” 

They both laugh as they wriggle their way out of their spacesuits, eager to get their hands on each other. Keith drags his nails down Shiro’s chest just to marvel at the swell of his breath, the steady beat of his heart, the kiss of his nails on bare skin. 

“Less than a varga,” Keith teases. “You wasted time arguing with me.” 

“Think I can get you inside of me before we have to land?” Shiro asks, grinning.

Keith always loves a challenge. “Only one way to find out, right?” 

 

-

 

Instead of leaving Shiro in their little travel bed alone and piloting from the front console, Keith fishes out the backup control pad. It isn’t enough to do any fancy navigating, but it does let him maintain the autopilot and, of course, get some cuddling in. Shiro’s utterly useless after sex. Piloting is off the table for him for at least a few more dobashes. 

Keith insists that the ship hates him, though. It doesn’t respond like the Lions used to and certainly not like any Galra cruiser or Earth vessel he’s ever flown. Shiro can always make the ship sing, but it seems to inherently hate Keith. Or so Keith claims. Shiro thinks he’s being dramatic. Keith thinks and knows Shiro’s wrong. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Keith says, checking their coordinates, the ship jerking around before steadying. “We’ve been cleared for landing once we hit atmosphere.”

“Mmm,” Shiro hums, completely sexed out and lazy. If they had more time, Keith would tease Shiro about his stamina and goad him into going another round. For now, he settles for Shiro mouthing at his hip, the only part he can reach with Keith sitting up. 

“Wonder what it is they want from us,” Keith mutters, checking the ship’s fuel level just to give his fingers something to do since he’s supposed to behave and not use them on Shiro. 

“Mmm,” Shiro hums again. 

Keith drops his hand and pets his fingers through his husband’s soft bangs. He smiles when Shiro starts nuzzling against him and pressing a sloppy kiss to the heel of his palm. 

“You listening?” Keith teases, glancing down, pushing the bangs away from Shiro’s face. 

Shiro cups Keith’s hand and presses another kiss to his palm, more lingering than before. “I wish they’d give us more information, too. I hate going in blind.” 

“I know,” Keith answers and frowns. “Seems weird they’d insist it has to be the two of us.” 

“Diplomacy is weird,” Shiro answers, eloquently. It is not the first time Shiro’s said as much since they started doing these peacekeeping missions. 

After the war’s end, diplomacy seemed the best route for them. Shiro and Keith never wanted to be soldiers in the first place and, in the wake of the Galra invasion, the Garrison was forever changed. It was less about scientific exploration and now the de facto Earth military. Representing the Coalition’s goals in a peacekeeping capacity seemed the best alternative for them both, although Keith can’t pretend to have taken much to mediation as an art form. 

Still, it’s worth it if it means he and Shiro get to work together and help the universe. If they do that now without weapons, all the better. 

Keith frowns, fiddling with the ship’s controls. “Xols just sounds like a backwater planet to me. They’re just trying to grab some big names for publicity, right? It’s not a trap.” 

Shiro breathes out and finally sits up, with some effort. The blanket pools down into his lap as he fishes the control tablet away from Keith. He rights the ship as it starts drifting off its course, the transition smooth as silk. 

“Baby,” he murmurs as he leans in and kisses Keith’s cheek, “it’ll be okay.” 

Keith finds his shoulders relaxing, just a little. He hadn’t realized he was getting tense but leave it to Shiro to notice those subtle changes in him. 

“This ship hates me,” Keith mutters as the course smooths out from Keith’s rocky attempts.

“The ship isn’t sentient, babe.” He can practically hear Shiro’s smile when he adds, “We’d know.” 

Keith shoulder-checks him. “Come on. Get out of bed. I’ll help zip you up.”

“Oh, my hero,” Shiro answers, pulling himself out of bed. 

“Can’t have you looking disheveled for our big important mission to Planet Nowhere,” Keith declares, only somewhat sarcastically. 

He runs his hands over Shiro, mindful not to get distracted, and lets Shiro dress him in turn. Shiro’s touch is reverent as he tucks a piece of Keith’s hair back behind his ear and cradles his jaw, pressing a slow, easing kiss to his mouth. 

Keith doesn’t know why he’s so agitated, really, but of course Shiro senses it and wants to help him. Keith’s grateful for that even if he can’t pinpoint the source of his anxiety beyond a nebulous unknown. He gets anxious during diplomatic missions, sure, but this one has him feeling especially keyed up. 

He curls his fingers around Shiro’s wrist so that his husband’s hand will stay there against his cheek, soothing him. 

 

-

 

They land on Xols and dock their ship in the hangar just as the Vrerecan ambassador, Variet, sweeps in. He greets them with what Keith’s long since considered the _diplomatic fake smile_ , all grand gestures and platitudes about their auspicious arrival. He’s already launching into a speech as their ship’s airlock disengages and opens. 

“This way, this way!” he urges as Shiro hops down from the ship, gesturing with four of his arms, his massive ears furling and waving behind him like ribbons in the wind.

Shiro offers his hand to Keith to help him jump down, too. Keith tangles their fingers together once they’re both on the steady footing. 

The ambassador leads the way from the hangar and towards what he calls the Welcoming Center. “We’re so grateful to have Paladins of Voltron here to help solve our little problem.” 

“We’re not Paladins anymore, Ambassador,” Shiro says, far kinder than Keith ever would. They’ve long since exhausted this line of conversation: Coran and Allura insist they should stop trying to make the correction, as even without the lions they’re still a symbol of hope for the Universe. Allura especially insists that they’ll never stop being Paladins and maybe she’s right. 

But Keith’s had to deal with one too many ambassadors lamenting the staggering, soul-crushing disappointment of no Lion Show for the people’s spirits or whatever the hell reason they always cite. They never outright _say_ they’re disappointed, because they’re diplomats, but Keith’s learned those tells and the passive aggressive bullshit. Keith’s, frankly, a little tired of it. 

“Regardless,” the ambassador simpers as he leads them through a series of winding hallways that, ultimately, open to what Keith assumes must be the Welcoming Center. “The Paladins of Voltron deserve to be welcomed, yes?”

It is a nice welcome. The Welcoming Center opens to a veranda with expansive purple-leaved gardens and a glowing fountain at its center, sending up little streaks of pink water. Keith watches the water do little flips through the air before landing with delicate plinks back into the standing pool. It’s beautiful. 

“We wanted to make the water red in honor of your time as the Red Paladin,” the ambassador says, noticing where Keith’s gaze lingers. “But pink was the best we could do.” 

“Oh. Um.” Keith fumbles a bit; he’s still not very used to being a diplomat. He never knows what to say. “Thanks? Pink’s cool.” 

“And, of course, the purple plants are as close as we can get to black, in honor of you both,” the ambassador continues, positively glowing with pride at the display. Keith feels it’s a misplaced pride; it’s not like the ambassador is the gardener, after all. 

Beside him, Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand. Keith glances up to see Shiro casting him a fond smile, curled at the edges and eyes sparkling with his amusement. 

“You’re very kind, Ambassador,” Shiro says, eyes on Keith for a moment longer than necessary before he turns his attention back to Variet. “We’re honored you thought of us.” 

That seems to be the right thing to say— and, unsurprising, Shiro always knows what to say— and Keith watches Variet puff up with pride. He leads them through the gardens and towards their appointed meeting room. Shiro and Keith tail him, pausing occasionally to admire the alien garden. It’s quiet, save for the calls of alien birds, floating through the sky. They look almost like swallows, Keith thinks, watching them zip through the air and settling in the upper boughs of the trees. 

“You’d look nice in pink,” Shiro teases him as they watch the pink water flip through the air.

“Red looks best on me and you know it,” Keith shoots back, squeezing his hand. 

Shiro laughs and doesn’t deny it, but Keith privately thinks pink looks best on Shiro: the way it spreads over his cheeks and kisses his ears is one of Keith's favorite colors. 

 

-

 

“Now,” Ambassador Variet says once they’re all seated in a modestly sized meeting room, filled only with a large table and a wide row of windows that opens out to the central garden. “I’m sure you are both wondering why we’ve insisted on the two of you for our diplomatic crisis.” 

“We’re prepared to help in any way we can,” Shiro agrees, hands folded on the table. He strikes an impressive figure like that, straight-backed, jaw set. He looks authoritative but open, helpful but strong, representing the Coalition’s hopes and dreams. Welcoming, always, but not to be taken lightly. There’s a reason that, no matter where they go, Shiro’s the Poster Boy for any enterprise. 

Keith’s hand strays to Shiro’s thigh and rests there, beneath the table. Shiro doesn’t show it on his face but Keith feels him relax marginally beneath his palm. 

“As you both know, this quadrant’s been the waystation for many displaced peoples since the war’s end,” Variet begins. 

“Yes,” Shiro agrees. “This system of planets within the Seldrik Quadrant has been instrumental in finding homes for many refugees. We’re grateful for all the help Xols has offered.” 

“Quite,” Variet answers. 

Something in his tone makes Keith narrow his eyes, but maybe that’s because Keith still hasn’t shaken that anxious feeling. Maybe he’s being too suspicious, of this planet, of the diplomat. But all the same, something saccharine and dismissive drips from Variet’s tone. 

Variet’s many pairs of arms fold in front of him. “We are, of course, honored to be part of the Coalition and lend our aid to those in need.” 

“Of course,” Shiro echoes. His voice is calm, tactful, and Keith wonders if he’s picking up on Variet’s tone, too. Keith glances at his husband from the corner of his eye, noting the frown lines, the concern in his gaze that only Keith would notice.

Variet wouldn’t simply call them all the way out here to compliment Xols for being in the Coalition, after all. It’s just a matter of waiting. 

Keith hates this part. He hates the talking in circles. Hates what’s left unsaid in the speeches, in the silence, in the simpering smiles. He tries. He really tries to be better at this. He doesn’t want his annoyance to show. He wants to do good. He wants to help the universe get better. He wants—

“The Vrerecan people, however, have found that it’s become too much of a burden on our society to house some very particular refugee children,” Variet says smoothly. 

— Keith feels his stomach drop away from him. 

Variet continues, “It is a strain on our resources. We are already isolated and limited enough as it is… We find that, in this particular case, it’s affecting the people’s morale.” 

A spike of anger jabs in Keith’s gut. Refugee children. They’ve been called here to talk about refugee children. Variet smiles at them, empty and unconcerned, like he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. 

“I see,” Shiro says. There’s a crease at his brow, betraying the similar disgust Keith feels. “If Xols requires more resources to help support your new population, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a way to assist. Your people rely on agriculture, correct? Perhaps a—” 

“It isn’t a matter of food or infrastructure, Paladin,” Variet demurs. Keith feels his hackles rise when Shiro’s interrupted. 

“You just said it was a strain on your resources,” Keith mutters and then asks, before Shiro can respond, “so what do you expect us to do about it?” 

“Well,” Variet says and does not elaborate. He looks at the two of them expectantly, his ears curled tight towards his skull. 

Typical. He isn’t going to say it. Keith feels his annoyance boil up. “You’re saying you want us to just, what, take them away?” 

He realizes that his nails are digging hard into Shiro’s thigh and, with some effort, forces his hand to relax and withdraw. He presses his hands on the table and leans forward, staring down Variet. 

“That why you would only tell us in person?” Keith asks. “Once you got us all the way here?” 

“It is… a delicate matter,” Variet says, expression unchanging even as Keith feels his own twist with anger. “Children like this… It is difficult to find lasting homes for them. These infants so often can’t support themselves. They cause an upset in the community.” Variet takes a deep breath. “It is a serious matter. We wouldn’t have called you here if we didn’t feel it was of the utmost importance.” 

“How many children are you struggling to find homes for?” Shiro asks before Keith can snap at the ambassador further. 

“One.”

“One?” Keith parrots. 

Ambassador Variet nods. “That’s right. We simply don’t have a place for him.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Keith grits out. “You called us all the way here because you can’t find a place for _one kid?_ Are you kidding me? How can you not have the resources for one kid?” 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers and it’s enough to still Keith, although the tension builds in the way his shoulders hitch up towards his ears. 

“As I said,” Variet answers. “It isn’t a matter of resources or infrastructure. We cannot find those who would take the infant in.” 

“Why the hell not?” Keith snaps.

Variet blinks, as if the answer should be obvious. “Because he is Galra.” 

Keith feels his vision blur then bleed to black, struck so suddenly by a dark, chilled horror, a hatred that burns ragged and piercing through him. This time, it’s Shiro’s hand on his thigh that steadies Keith, that reminds him to come back to himself and not launch himself across the table in a fit of anger. Keith sucks in a sharp breath and finds Shiro looking at him. 

“You’re saying,” Shiro says, slowly, betraying nothing in his tone, “that you’re unable to find a home for this child only because he’s Galra?” 

“He has Galra blood,” the ambassador agrees, nodding. “You must understand, Paladins. We have opened our arms and our homes to many refugees and displaced children. We take pride in providing for their needs… But to bring in the Galra themselves? This asks too much of my people.”

“Are you kidding me?” Keith hisses. 

Variet continues, “We simply do not know how to accommodate the unique needs of a Galra infant.” 

“They’re all _children,_ ” Keith snaps. He feels Shiro’s hand flex on his thigh, but he can’t stop the vitriolic anger that burns up his lungs, that poisons his very words. “He’s a _kid._ What does it matter if he’s part Galra?” 

“It matters,” the ambassador insists. “Galra are not welcomed on Xols. Not after so many years of war and hardship. It is a great sacrifice for our people to have any Galra on our soil again, no matter the circumstance.”

“Ambassador,” Shiro says sharply, his eyes dark. “You know who you’re speaking to.” 

“Of course,” the ambassador answers, looking slightly cowed but unrelenting. “Why do you think we asked you two here? Who better to deal with a Galra orphan than the hybrid and his apologist mate?”

Silence follows the ambassador’s statement. Shiro must be struck speechless. Keith, though, can only see red. He stands from his chair, hands fisted against the table. 

“You called us here,” Keith says, darkly. “Pulled us here across the universe without a real explanation for… what? So we’ll take away your _unwanted burden_?” 

The ambassador doesn’t even give him the satisfaction of looking ashamed. He looks as if he is merely discussing a broken lamp, a misbehaving dog. 

Keith can’t put words to the sudden fury inside him, that deep ache low in his gut. An anger, a pain— something not just for a child he’s never seen. Something deeper. Something coursing through his veins like venom. 

“My people are not unreasonable, Paladin,” Variet insists. “Would you have preferred we not contact you and have found a less kind solution?” 

Keith stares at him, unsure how to answer that, frustration nearly blinding him. The Galra have destroyed so much in the universe, Keith knows. But they’re talking about a child. 

“We do not wish to cause an incident,” Variet continues. “This is why we have called you here. We cannot give the child the life he needs. Surely there is another planet he can be taken to. Or there are some Galra widows who would want a child.” The ambassador stares back at Keith. “What life would he have here, Paladin? My people do not like or want the Galra here. He would be alone, without his parents, without his people, and without his unique needs met. That’s no life at all.” 

“With that kinda attitude why not just drown unwanted kids in your fucking fountains?” Keith snaps. 

The ambassador is silent. Keith’s jaw clenches, teeth gritting, and he can feel the bite of fangs growing, feel the threat of his own Galra features about to take over. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, his hand touching his, covering it easily. 

It’s enough to get Keith to relax enough to maintain control. Shiro stands, too, his expression sympathetic as he looks at Keith, heartbroken in that quiet way of his: never presuming, never pitying, but steadfast in his support. 

Keith watches Shiro’s expression harden, though, his eyes darkening when he turns back towards the ambassador. His voice is downright cold when he asks, “Where is the child now?”

Variet is once again silent for too long. 

“Answer him,” Keith snaps, all semblance of diplomacy gone. 

“He is staying here in the Welcoming Center, of course,” Variet answers. “We wanted him to be prepared and ready to go with you, once you were able to depart.” 

“And what if we didn’t agree to this?” Shiro asks. “What if we insist you should house the child?” 

“There’s no place for him here. Perhaps, then, he’d find better luck in the woods,” Variet says, without a shred of remorse in his voice. 

“You’re out of line,” Shiro says, the shock plain on his face. 

“I say this merely to emphasize how important it is that you heed my request, Paladins,” Variet answers. “The child will be happier elsewhere. That much is certain.” 

“We’re done here,” Keith snaps and yanks hard on Shiro’s hand, pulling him from the table. “Come on, Shiro.” 

Shiro squeezes his hand and lets him lead, sending the ambassador one final, sharp look before they exit. 

 

-

 

Keith’s sword shimmers full-bladed into his hand the moment they step out beyond the Welcoming Center’s doors. He swings his blade through the air and decapitates a nearby bush. It doesn’t have any of the solid, satisfying give of fighting a dummy or sparring with Shiro does, though, and he growls in frustration. His teeth prick at his lips and he knows they’re fangs, knows his eyes are flashing Galra yellow as he arches his swing and slams his blade against the trunk of a tree.

Shiro hovers by him but lets him pour his frustration into violence. Around them, Keith hears the surprised, scandalized murmurs of other Vrerecan nearby, but he can’t care, can’t care what it means for them to see a half-Galra lose his temper. 

“He’s just a kid, Shiro,” Keith says miserably once his blade shrinks back to its dagger-size, buried in a tree. He fishes it out and sheaths it before slumping, wanting to curl into himself. Something unsettles inside him, twisting and coiling up, a deeply ingrained but long unvisited pain in his chest. “Sometimes I forget it’s not just humans who suck... Turns out the universe still sucks all on its own.” 

Shiro’s hand runs down his back, gentle and centering. Keith leans back into Shiro’s space and lets Shiro wrap his arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. Keith closes his eyes against the sting of tears, his distress clawing up his throat. He wants Shiro to always hold him. He wants to always be held like this, safe and protected and _wanted_. 

“Sometimes I wish we were still soldiers. Then I’d have an excuse to punch that asshole rather than play the nice, shitty diplomat.” 

“You’re an excellent diplomat,” Shiro insists quietly, which feels fully unwarranted given Keith’s behavior back in the meeting room. Shiro sighs. “Not that I disagree with the punching thing.” 

“They don’t—” Keith’s voice cuts off, a hitching, pained breath hushing out of him. 

Shiro cups his cheek, his palm gentle as his thumb swipes across the length of his scar. They look at each other and Keith tries to focus on that, on just tracing his eyes over Shiro’s face, centering himself around his husband. 

With a sigh, Keith relaxes into the touch and closes his eyes. 

“Come here,” Shiro whispers and kisses him before leading him further into the garden, sitting down on a bench. Keith goes, boneless and ready to be guided by Shiro. The fight hasn’t drained out of him, but simmers low in his gut, guilty and twisting. It’s a familiar, painful ache. 

“Sorry,” Keith says as they settle beside each other. Keith draws his legs up towards his chest. “I didn’t— I guess I didn’t realize how much this would bother me.” He hesitates, frowning before ducking his head against his knees. “Did I overreact?” 

“No,” Shiro says, because of course he does. He runs his hand over Keith’s shin, sliding from ankle up to knee, then resting there. It’s profoundly comforting. “How could this not bother you?” 

“This isn’t what I thought he meant when he said there was an emergency on Xols,” Keith mutters. “What an asshole.” 

“Yes,” Shiro agrees. He slides his hand down and squeezes Keith’s calf. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had someone join the Coalition and want the resources without dedicating themselves to helping, too.” 

“Yeah,” Keith answers, voice hollow. He closes his eyes. “He’s just a kid.”

“I know, baby.” 

Keith opens his eyes again, watching the slow movement of Shiro’s hand over his leg, the glint of his wedding ring in the mid-day Xols sun. 

“So, what do we do?” Keith mutters, depleted.

“We take him with us,” Shiro answers. “I don’t know if Variet would deliver on the threat, but it’s true that even if he could find a place for the child here, he’s not going to have… an exactly nurturing life.” 

“Right.”

“There are plenty of planets in this sector. Plenty of places back home where someone would want to adopt, you know?” Shiro tells him.

“Right.” 

Shiro’s quiet for a moment and then touches Keith's cheek again, turning his head so they’re facing each other. Keith’s breath rattles out of him, shaky and pained, when Shiro presses their foreheads together. 

“ _You_ are wanted,” Shiro murmurs, low and just for Keith. “You are loved. By so many people.”

“Shut up,” Keith hiccups, anger and pain clouding his voice. Of course Shiro would know what to say. “I know. I know, I just…” 

But Shiro’s right. A half-Galra baby, unwanted by the aliens that are supposed to take him in? It hits close to home. Keith knows why he’s so agitated, why it’s hurting him so deeply. He breathes out shakily and closes his eyes, trembling. Shiro wraps his arms around him and holds him and Keith ducks his head to bury his face against Shiro’s neck, just to breathe him in, surrounded by him. 

“Why does it matter if he’s Galra? That shouldn’t define what his life is like. Or how long he gets to live it before some asshole throws him into the woods.” 

“This little guy’s going to have a long life,” Shiro assures him. “We’ll make sure of that.” He lingers a moment, just holding Keith and letting him breathe. Then, quietly, he says, “Come on. Let’s go find him and get the hell off this planet.” 

 

-

 

If Keith had a say, they’d scoop up the baby and leave the planet immediately. But the solar storm hit the planet shortly after Shiro and Keith touched down and that means too much radiation and interference to get a clean launch going. They’ll need to wait the night out. 

Thankfully for the ambassador’s sake, Keith thinks darkly, they don’t encounter Variet again as they leave the gardens and ask one of the Welcoming Center workers where the child’s being kept. They weave through the hallways towards the bedroom. They hear him crying down the hall before they even reach the room and Keith feels his shoulders hitch up towards his ears, tension coiling tight in his gut. 

Keith storms ahead and enters the room. It’s empty, save for the too small crib and the infant within. He’s wailing, arms and legs in the air and mouth round with fury. His ears are huge, the Vrerecan’s unique ears— large and rounded like an elephant’s— coupled with the familiar fuzzy purple fur of the Galra. 

Keith doesn’t even hesitate, picking the baby up and cradling him close to his chest. “Hey,” he says, voice low and, he hopes, soothing, “it’s okay. Don’t cry.” 

He hopes he sounds comforting, at least, and not murderous. He wants to march back down the hallway, find Variet, and rip his smug little head clean off. 

But something in Keith’s manner must be gentling, somehow, because the baby hushes after Keith rocks him in his arms, cradling him close against his body. The baby’s face is still puckered up miserably, but at least he isn’t wailing anymore. 

The baby’s skin feels cold to the touch. Too cold. Variet might be right about his people not understanding how to care for Galra children, but Keith can guess that little effort was put in to researching necessary details, such as a Galra infant’s need for absorbing body warmth. He hugs the baby close and hopes that he runs hot enough for some of his heat to sink into the infant’s bones. 

“He’s… He’s an actual baby,” Keith mutters. Somehow, he hadn’t thought to picture what that meant. The war’s been over for decaphoebs now, and yet this child is barely a few phoebs old. He’s a perfect mix of Galra and Vrerecan features, little Galra fangs and Vrerecan ears nearly as large as his head. 

“His mother died in childbirth,” the worker of the Welcoming Center speaks up from the doorway. “She was a refugee.” 

“And the father?” Shiro asks, eyes on Keith and the baby. 

The worker shrugs. “He won’t claim it. Don’t bother following that line of questioning.” 

Rage pulses through Keith again and the baby begins to fuss in his arms. He turns his glare away from the worker and softens his expression for the infant, shushing him and rocking him. But the baby’s face twists up further. Keith rocks him two more times but the baby’s ears unfurl, draping over his face and hiding from Keith’s sight. 

Keith hears Shiro speaking with the worker for a few moments but hardly listens, too focused on the baby. Even if the baby doesn’t look up at him again, Keith concentrates on rocking him and keeping him close, keeping his movements fluid and gentle. Eventually, even with his face hidden from view, the baby squirms closer and snuggles up to Keith’s chest. Slowly, he warms in Keith’s arms, radiating that familiar Galra heat Keith knows from his mother and himself. 

When he finally looks up, the three of them are alone in the room and Shiro is watching him, eyes soft. 

“Oh,” Keith says, surprised. “Sorry. Uh, I guess I got distracted.” 

Shiro nods and approaches him, his hand ghosting over Keith’s hip and then dragging up his back. “You don’t have to apologize.” 

Keith shivers and then tucks himself into the circle of Shiro’s arms, the heat of his body, pressing his face up against his neck. The baby squirms and then settles. 

“Need to rest your arms?” Shiro asks. “Is he heavy?” 

Keith snorts. “I can handle holding a baby. I’ve held you up for much longer than this.”

Shiro lets out a little cough and tightens his hold around Keith, mindful not to crush him against his chest and risk hurting the baby. Shiro kisses the top of Keith’s head and it’s so unfathomably sweet that Keith feels overwhelmed by it. His emotions are all over the place, made tender by the infant squirming in his arms. 

“Why do you ask, anyway? Want to hold him?” Keith asks. 

“I’m not sure how I’d hold a baby with this arm,” Shiro confesses, gesturing to the empty space where his bicep once was, and then to the generally large, unrelenting metal right arm. 

“You could probably hold him just in the palm of your hand, honestly,” Keith admits, and it’s almost a tease— would be a tease if he didn’t feel so wrung out and hung up to dry by this entire day. He sighs. “Let’s go to our room and wait for when we can get the fuck out of here.”

“Sure,” Shiro says and kisses his head again before drawing away. He keeps his arm around Keith’s shoulders, protective in a way, and leads them through the winding halls towards the place they’re staying. At Keith’s questioning look, he says, “I asked the guide where to go while you were distracted.” 

Keith nods, accepting that. The room set out for them is modest enough, with another bank of windows displaying the inner garden. Keith sits on the side of the large bed as Shiro draws the curtains on those windows. Up above them, the entire roof is made of skylights, a front-row seat to the solar storm’s answering aurora borealis. The sky is a riot of reds and purples. 

Keith scoffs. “Almost like they planned the colors.” 

“I doubt even the Vrerecan could be so accommodating.” 

“I hope all their fields burn down,” Keith growls. 

“You don’t hope that,” Shiro tells him, not quite a scold but unrelentingly kind. He sits down beside Keith and touches his thigh. 

“Maybe only a little,” Keith agrees, looking down at the baby. He still hasn’t unfolded his ears away from his face. Keith has no idea if this is a Vrerecan thing or just a this particular baby thing, doesn’t know if it means he’s sleeping or he’s shy or he’s scared. He swallows and looks to Shiro. “Hold him for me? I need to go find something for him to eat.” 

“What would he eat?” Shiro asks and looks unspeakably nervous as Keith shifts to deposit the baby into his arms. 

Keith pauses when he notices the nervousness. “Have you held a baby before, Shiro?” 

“It’s been a while,” Shiro confesses. “Uh. Well. Clearly you have.” 

Keith shrugs. “There were a lot of kids in the homes growing up. I’d give them attention when the aids couldn’t.” 

Shiro’s expression softens but he says nothing— and Keith’s grateful for that. Shiro holds out his arms to Keith and, slowly, Keith shifts the baby into Shiro’s hold. It takes a little adjusting and the baby squirms as he’s moved, but he eventually settles in the crook of Shiro’s left arm, his right arm supporting him and keeping him away from an awkward angle. 

“Okay,” Keith says. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

Keith accosts a poor worker cleaning windows and demands she take him to the kitchens. He doesn’t know if the baby’s tastes would take to Galran or Vrerecan infancy, but presumably the baby’s been here long enough for the staff to know. He ends up with a bottle of milk from a Vrerecan Azok, whatever that is, and some mushed up vrior root in a bowl. 

When he slips into their room, after only getting lost twice on the way back, he finds Shiro sprawled out on the bed with the baby huddled up on his chest. The baby’s ears have unfurled and his face is slack with sleep. Shiro, on the other hand, looks a mix between overwhelmed and endeared. 

“You got comfortable,” Keith says, voice pitched low as he sits beside Shiro. 

“He kept squirming,” Shiro murmurs. He closes his eyes and smiles as Keith brushes his hair back from his face. He lets out a soft, pleased breath. Unable to resist, Keith ducks down to press a kiss to Shiro’s forehead. 

Keith sets aside the milk and root for now— they’ll keep for a few hours, the kitchen staff assured him— and crawls into bed with Shiro. He curls up beside him, resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder. 

Keith still feels that agitation, that anger and pain pulsing through him, but Shiro’s always been able to calm him. It’s easy enough to get lost in his husband’s eyes, and something inside his chest aches for reasons beyond pain and anger— a quiet ache that rises when he looks at Shiro holding a baby. 

“His ears are really cute,” Shiro says. 

Keith nods and glances down at the baby. His hands are so small, Keith thinks. Now that the baby’s lying on his stomach, drooling on Shiro’s chest, Keith thinks he sees the nub of a Galra tail tucked beneath the scratchy tunic the staff’s put him in. 

Keith turns his head, studying Shiro. He watches the slow sweep of Shiro’s lashes, his expression gentle and thoughtful as he, in turn, watches the baby on his chest. His hands cover the infant, keeping him in one spot without restricting his movement. He almost looks wondering as he watches him sleep. 

“What?” Shiro asks, eyes on the baby but feeling Keith’s gaze on him.

“Nothing,” Keith says. He’s quiet for a beat, just watching Shiro’s expression. “I guess I never really thought about this before, you know? Seeing you like this…” 

“Hmmm,” Shiro hums. “Thinking about what I’d be like as a dad?” 

“A little,” Keith confesses. 

Shiro’s expression softens immediately, abandoning the tease as he turns his head to look at Keith. He smiles at Keith, his eyes so gentle. He lifts one hand off the baby to touch Keith’s cheek, cupping his face. 

“Have you ever thought about it?” he asks Keith. 

The baby stirs, squirming up Shiro’s chest. His wriggling is oddly adorable, Keith thinks. Keith’s never really paid attention to babies before, admittedly. Or kids in general. His focus has always been on the Garrison, or Voltron, or the war, or Shiro. He never had time to think about kids beyond knowing they existed and knowing they eventually became adults. 

Keith realizes too late that he’s spent too long not answering. 

“Ow,” Shiro says, tensing up. Keith sits up, alarmed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“He. Um…” Shiro trails off as his entire face turns bright, bright red. “He’s… trying to—” 

Keith looks down to find the baby wriggling across Shiro’s chest, his sharp fangs biting down through Shiro’s shirt. 

“To, uh, nurse,” Shiro finishes. 

“Oh!” Keith says. And then he can’t help but laugh. “Oh shit. He’s going to be so disappointed.” 

“ _Keith!_ ” Shiro says, but then laughs like he can’t help himself, embarrassed. “ _Ow._ Galra fangs, remember?” 

“Gotcha,” Keith says, and goes to fetch the bottle of Azok milk. Shiro’s completely still when he returns, not quite tensed in pain but more so in embarrassment. 

Keith eases the baby away from Shiro and towards the bottle instead. He scoops the baby into his arms and angles him to feed him from the bottle. His little hands touch at Keith’s, barely a fraction of his size, and then settle at the bottle, gulping down the milk with fervor. Keith doesn’t want to think about how hungry the baby seems and what that might mean. 

“That should settle him,” Keith murmurs. 

Shiro and Keith both lean back against the headboard as the baby drinks. Keith holds him close in his arms. He can feel Shiro watching him and once he’s sure the baby isn’t about to choke because of his eagerness to drink, he turns his head and looks at Shiro. 

“Should we give him a name?” Shiro asks once their eyes meet. 

Something thuds in Keith’s heart. “He’s… He’s not really ours to name, is he?” 

Shiro shrugs a little, his hand touching Keith’s side and soothing over it, comforting. His lips hint the ghost of a smile when he says, “He’ll tell us when he’s ready, you mean?” 

Keith scowls, but it’s without heat. He bumps his shoulder against Shiro’s. Shiro chuckles and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wouldn’t he have a name already?” Keith asks. “From his mother.” 

Shiro shakes his head. “The worker who brought us to him— he said that the mom didn’t get a chance to name him. Nobody’s named him.”

Anger returns, flaring to life in his chest. “He’s been here for how long and they haven’t even given him a name? Has anyone talked to him? Held him?” He ducks his head, teeth gritting. “He’s old enough— he deserves a name.” 

“So, let’s give him a name,” Shiro says. 

Keith feels himself trembling, something calling out to him to agree and the other part of him, somehow, unsure. Shiro is soothing, running his hands over him with such gentleness that if it were from anyone else it would be condescending. Keith sighs and turns his head, catching Shiro’s mouth with a kiss. 

Shiro breathes into him, his fingers coaxing, his touch gentle, tipping Keith’s face up. He kisses Keith as easy as anything and it’s everything. Keith could kiss Shiro again and again, for decaphoebs, for centuries, and never grow tired of it. He sighs out, sinking into that kiss, pillowing his mouth to his. It’s astoundingly comforting, as all things with Shiro are. 

When they draw away, it’s only to tip to each other, their foreheads pressing together. Keith keeps his eyes shut, breathing out. He can feel Shiro there. He can guess at how soft his eyes must be, looking at him. 

“It pisses me off so much,” Keith mutters. 

Shiro kisses him and says, “I know, sweetheart.” 

Keith sighs. He brushes his nose against Shiro’s, lingering close before drawing away and glancing at the baby again. He’s finished his bottle and looks content, curled up in Keith’s arms, his ears draped over his face like how Keith might use his hand to shield his own eyes from the sun. 

Keith smiles at the infant, fondly. “He is cute, though. He’s got big ears like you.”

“Hey,” Shiro says, trying to sound strict but laughing instead. “You love my ears.”

“I do,” Keith agrees, easily. “I love everything about you.” 

“Wow,” Shiro whispers. “Good thing you married me, then.”

“Very,” Keith agrees and laughs when Shiro blows a raspberry against his neck. The sound startles the baby, his ears perking up in surprise as he makes a little chirruping sound in response. Keith grins down at him. “Huh. I think he liked that.” 

Shiro blows a raspberry at the baby and the chirrup becomes a squeak of laughter. He squirms in Keith’s arms and one little hand reaches up, grasping the air, as if trying to grab at the sound and tug. He ends up fisting a piece of Keith’s hair that’s gotten knocked loose from his braid and yanking on that instead.

“Ow!” Keith laughs. “Wow, you’re a strong little guy, aren’t you?”

“He’s a fighter,” Shiro agrees. He helps ease the piece of hair out of the baby’s hand and tucks it back behind Keith’s ear again. 

“Think he’s ready to sleep?” Keith asks and turns to set the baby down on the bed. 

He starts to fuss when Keith does that, though. Something snags in Keith’s heart when Shiro says, as if realizing it, too: “I think he just wants to be held.” 

“Guess we know what we’re doing this evening,” Keith says, decisively. Shiro smiles at him, warm and gentle and like he’s proud of him. Keith flushes and holds the baby close. 

 

-

 

They didn’t bring the crib with them, but it seemed too small for the baby anyway. So once the baby lapses into sleep, Keith sets him down carefully at the center of the bed, both Shiro and Keith on either side of him, flanking him. He sleeps on his back, ears draped over his face and his little fists curled up in the blanket. 

“Have _you_ ever thought about it?” Keith asks. 

Shiro, at least, doesn’t pretend he doesn’t know exactly what Keith’s asking. He looks up at him, eyes warm in the dark of their room, the northern lights flooding the sky above them. 

“Never… seriously,” Shiro admits. 

Keith nods a little, accepting that. “Yeah.” His voice feels brittle when he adds, “I… I never really did, either. I didn’t— I figured I’d make a terrible dad, you know?” 

Shiro makes a soft sound but doesn’t interrupt him. Shiro glances down at the baby, careful as he shifts off the bed and stands, coming around to Keith’s side and sitting beside him. Up close, his eyes are so impossibly understanding. Sometimes Keith still can’t stand it, the depth and expansiveness of Shiro’s faith and love for him. 

“I get it,” Shiro says, quietly. “I never thought I’d have a family, you know? I just didn’t let myself think about it.” He smiles. “Figured I’d be a shitty dad, too.” 

“How could you be?” Keith asks.

Shiro shrugs. “How good of a dad could I be if I died before they could even remember me? Some father.” 

“ _Shiro,_ ” Keith whispers, heartbroken. 

Shiro shakes his head and takes his hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing. “I know,” he says, quietly. “One of the many super fun therapy topics I’m tackling with Dr. Danforth, remember?” 

Keith nods and Shiro breathes out, glancing over their shoulders towards the slumbering baby. They’re quiet for a moment, just watching him. He shifts a bit in his sleep, letting out a tiny little murmur, and Keith instinctively reaches out to tuck the blanket up higher on his chest, his touch impossibly gentle.

Shiro turns back towards Keith and smiles. “Baby,” he whispers. “You’d be an amazing dad. You know that, right?” 

Keith feels tears prickling at the back of his eyes that he really, truly wants to ignore. He shakes his head, smiling a little as he ducks his face away. 

“Be serious.”

Shiro lifts their hands and presses a kiss to Keith’s, to the ring on his finger. “There is no one in this universe kinder than you. You are generous, supportive, and so, so sweet.”

“Stop,” Keith whispers, embarrassed. “You’re the only one who thinks I’m sweet.” 

Shiro shakes his head and kisses him. “Any kid would be lucky to have you in their life.” 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers weakly, and loops his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and drags him against him. They kiss, slow and unhurried, and Keith feels like his heart is about to burst open, that he’ll end up bleeding all over the floor. He never realized he could still feel like such a mess. 

He feels Shiro card his fingers through his hair, unraveling his braid. Keith sighs and whispers Shiro’s name into the kiss, touching the back of his neck and then cupping his cheeks. He cradles Shiro in his hands, kissing him again and again, breathing out his name and swallowing each sound Shiro gives him. Again and again, he kisses him, holds him, that living proof of the man he loves more than anything else in the universe. His husband. The love of his life. His everything.

He will never stop being thankful that Shiro found him. 

Shiro’s the one to break the kiss, lingering close and punctuating its end with a little press of his mouth to the corner of Keith’s. 

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” Shiro whispers. 

Keith glances at the baby and sighs. “We’re helping this one,” he says, low. “But— I know there have to be so many kids out there who’re being treated this way. Who don’t get the Paladin butler service to take them away. It…” 

He swallows, his voice trailing off into a shaky breath. Shiro brushes his fingers through his hair, combing it out. Keith closes his eyes, trying to steady himself. He feels the burn of unshed tears and fights back against it. He thought he’d resolved this. Thought that, with his mom back in his life, he didn’t have to still feel like the wayward, discarded child. 

“I just think… Like, if someone had adopted me, you know? I’d have hated them if they’d tried to replace my dad but also. I just… didn’t want to be alone anymore. How many kids are feeling that right now?” He gestures towards the sleeping baby. “A baby is one thing. But what about actual kids? What about the teenagers out there?” 

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs. 

“I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” 

He doesn’t know how to put that ache into words, doesn’t know how to filter his sadness and longing into something tangible. He knows, too, that Shiro will understand. After nearly fifteen years of knowing each other, of course Shiro would understand. He sighs and turns his back to Shiro, so Shiro can braid his hair for him. It’s an old habit of theirs by now, something he knows Shiro loves to do. 

And sure enough, obediently Shiro’s fingers comb through his hair, unbearably soothing. It’s normal for Keith, now, to feel relaxed whenever Shiro touches his hair. Shiro’s gotten better at braiding, too. Keith closes his eyes as Shiro divides his hair up into three sections and weaves it, movements slow and precise. He’s always so careful. 

It gives Keith a moment to collect his words, to let his face twist and ripple with pain, and know that Shiro isn’t staring at him. They’re quiet as Shiro works. Keith knows Shiro is waiting, that he won’t speak again until he’s sure that Keith’s been able to express what he needs. He closes his eyes and tries to just focus on the feeling of Shiro’s steady, sure hands moving through his hair. 

The truth, though, is staring Keith right in the face. “I want to help them, Shiro. As many of them as I can.” Keith swallows. “Maybe it’s— too abrupt for me to say it now, but… that’s what I want. That’s what I need to do.” 

Shiro brushes aside his braid and kisses the back of his neck.

“Is it important to you?” Shiro asks.

“It is,” Keith answers and, in answering, realizes how true it is. It is. It truly is. He swallows down against that knowledge and breathes out, just a little shaky. He turns towards Shiro. “It’s really important, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles, his thumb tracing his jaw. “Then let’s do it.” 

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” Shiro agrees. 

“It’s a big ask,” Keith says. He gestures towards the baby. “I don’t mean just him. I mean— I want to foster as many kids as we can handle. Maybe start slow, but—” 

“Let’s do it,” Shiro says again. He smiles and shrugs at Keith’s surprised look. “You think I haven’t thought about all those kids out there? We both know we haven’t taken to diplomacy as much as we hoped. So, let’s do something else. Let’s make the universe a better place, Keith.” 

This time, Keith can’t fight back the way his eyes well up with tears. He clenches his eyes shut, overwhelmed. He feels Shiro’s fingers brush through the little wisps of his hair and finish off his braid, tying it off for him. 

It’s a plan still in its infancy, but Keith can see that future stretching out before them— traveling the universe with Shiro, seeing the stars they’ve always wanted to see. Visiting those planets, helping people. Finding those who need a home. Providing that home. Keith can’t picture the two of them settling on Earth in retirement, in the end— they were always meant for the stars. 

Something like excitement coils in his gut along with the anxiety. It’s too abrupt a choice. It can’t be this easy. Maybe he’s overreacting. But as it settles inside him, it feels true. It feels like this is what Keith’s been waiting for. 

“It’s important, Shiro,” Keith insists. “You can’t just— we can’t just take it back once we commit. If you’re saying we’ll do it, then we’re doing it.” 

When Keith looks up at him, Shiro’s smile is shy, boyish, so much like that young man he met and fell in love with all those years ago. “Hey,” he says, fondly. “I committed to you, didn’t I?” 

“You never gave up on me,” Keith agrees.

Shiro’s smile grows. “Guess that just means I’ll also never give up on our kids.”

Something zips down Keith’s spine as the words hit him. He’s quiet for half a second and then parrots, softly, “Our kids.” 

“Our kids,” Shiro agrees, smile warm. “They’re out there, Keith. Let’s go get them.” 

 

-

 

Keith and Shiro sleep through the night, the baby curled up on Shiro’s chest and Keith curled into Shiro’s side. 

“Since we’re keeping him,” Shiro says as they pack up in the morning, nodding down at the baby cuddled up in the crook of his elbow. “We’re really going to have to consider a name.” 

“If Mom were here, she’d suggest Yorak,” Keith says. Shiro looks at him, a question shining in his eyes and Keith blushes. “She wanted to name me that. It was my great grandfather’s name, apparently. Mom was really close to him.” 

“Yorak,” Shiro considers, testing the name. Keith can’t help the smile, hearing the name in Shiro’s voice. Shiro’s watching the baby, who naturally makes no reaction to the name. “I’m pretty sure Lance would have a fit if we named our baby after someone who isn’t him.” 

Keith shivers at _our baby_ but then just snorts, loudly. “Lance is delusional if he thinks I’m naming any of my kids after him.” 

Shiro laughs. “Maybe we should put a moratorium on naming after any of our friends or relatives. It’s bad luck, anyway.” 

“You don’t want to name him after you?” Keith teases. “Little baby Takashi?” 

“God, no,” Shiro laughs. 

“Takkun,” Keith coos. The baby’s ears flap as he sleeps. 

Shiro barks a laugh. “You’re lucky I’m holding the kid or else I’d tackle you to that bed.” 

“The right name will come,” Keith assures with a wide smile, something like giddiness crawling up his throat. 

“You know I was kidding about him telling us when he’s ready, right? If we do that, then Lance is going to name him just like he did the wolf. You want our son to be named Kosmo Jr.?” 

“Our son,” Keith whispers. 

“Too much?” Shiro asks, pink-faced but smiling a little.

Keith shakes his head, crossing the room, hooking his hand around the back of Shiro’s neck, and dragging him down to kiss him.

 

-

 

Once the solar storm passes, they make a quick exit from Xols. They wake early enough to feed the baby and grab enough Azok milk to last them the trip back to Earth. 

Keith suggests that they burn the garden down before they go but Shiro convinces him otherwise. Thankfully they don’t see Variet again, although they find he’s transferred all the necessary data on the baby’s birth— unnamed, but certificate of birth digitized for their convenience— to Shiro’s datapad. It makes hatred burn hot and ugly in Keith’s gut, soothed away only when Shiro kisses his temple and transfers the baby into Keith’s arms. That settles him, at least. 

It’s a quiet departure, but Keith’s grateful for it. They have enough supplies for the journey back to Earth. The flyer was cramped with two and is definitely cramped with two adults and an infant, but Keith finds himself excited for the next chapter. 

He realizes with no small amount of joy that this is likely his last political diplomacy mission ever. From now on, it’s him and Shiro doing what they want, hierarchy and bureaucracy be damned. 

Keith knows, realistically, they won’t be able to help every orphaned kid in the universe, but he has to try. 

Shiro’s piloting because the ship still hates Keith. He will insist on this until the end of time. While Shiro pilots, Keith rocks the baby against his chest. He’s made him a haphazard sling with a blanket from the ship’s supply cache. It feels domestic in a way that Keith’s never let himself feel before. 

“Do you think we’re ready for this?” Keith asks quietly. “We don’t know much about Vrerecan needs. Or… uh. Being parents.” 

“Were we ready for a ten-thousand-year alien space war and piloting sentient lion ships?” Shiro asks. “To name just one example.” He glances at Keith and smiles. “After that, I’m sure we can handle a screaming baby.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Keith demurs, bouncing the baby in his sling. 

Shiro chuckles and returns to navigating the ship as Keith drops down into the co-pilot’s seat, settling and kicking his feet up on the control panel, cradling the baby between his bent legs and chest. 

“What about Eric?” Keith asks. 

Shiro wrinkles his nose. “I had a crush on an Eric once. He was an ass.” 

“Hmmm,” Keith hums, petting his fingers along the ridge of the baby’s ears just to hear him trill happily. “You suggest a name, then.” 

“What about… hmm, Forrest?” Shiro asks. “I never knew a Forrest.” 

“Are you deciding names based on guys you’ve known?” Keith asks, narrowing his eyes at his husband. “Just how many guys did you have crushes on?” 

Shiro grins. “No to naming him after a crush?”

“Obviously.”

“Such a shame,” Shiro sighs. “I really do love the name Keith.” 

Keith blushes but ignores him. He tries to think of names, but naturally his mind has drained of any name he’s ever heard in his life, leaving behind a mere void. He looks around the flyer, trying to find inspiration. 

“… Blade?” 

Shiro’s quiet for a moment and then scoffs, fondly. “Okay. That’s cool, baby, but we can’t seriously name our kid _Blade_.” 

“Damn,” Keith sighs. “How do parents even think of a name?” 

“They typically have a bit more time to prepare, depending on the alien race, you know? Long gestation periods. Imagine laying an egg and waiting around five years for it to hatch like the Alteans.” 

“Let’s just name him Egg, then, and be done with it,” Keith mutters just to make Shiro laugh. He does, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. 

 

-

 

Two vargas from Earth, Shiro nudges Keith awake. He blinks his eyes open and finds Shiro hovering over him, his smile sleep-warm and sweet, their baby held in his arms. 

“We’re a little way’s out,” he murmurs. “Almost home.” 

Keith shakes his head and kisses Shiro when he dips down to greet him. He hums into his mouth, touching his cheek, and thinking, pathetically and sappily, _My husband and my son._

“My home is right here,” he whispers against Shiro’s mouth. 

Shiro’s expression melts and Keith feels that overwhelming love twist up inside him. He’s never going to get used to it. He never wants to. 

“We still haven’t thought of a name,” Shiro murmurs. “We better think of a stand-by or else Lance really _is_ going to start calling him Kosmo Jr.” 

“Lance can fuck off,” Keith mutters, only after he’s covered the baby’s ears with his hands. They flap against his fingertips. 

Shiro chuckles, warm and honeyed. “Babe.” 

“We’ll just tell Lance he can learn the name once he’s earned it,” Keith sniffs. “That’ll buy us a few days.” 

Shiro laughs and headbutts him fondly. “You’re perfect.” 

Keith blushes. “You finally noticed?” Shiro beams at him and Keith has to look away, blushing. “Think the wolf’s going to be happy to have a younger brother?” 

“Oh, is the wolf our son now, too?” Shiro teases. 

“Yes,” Keith says and grins. “Our very big, hairy son.” 

“I think I’m probably the stepdad in his case.” 

“Maybe,” Keith hums. He pets his fingers through Shiro’s hair and coos at him, “But then how do you explain why both your sons have your very big ears?” 

Shiro laughs again, deeper, and kisses him. He mouths _I love you_ into the kiss and now Keith’s the one melting. He cups Shiro’s face, staying close, his breath mingling with Shiro’s. 

“I love you, too,” Keith whispers, his heart singing.

The future stretches out in front of them and Keith finds himself eager to tackle it, to make the universe a better place, to be there at Shiro’s side. He feels invincible. He feels loved. He feels wanted. He’ll do everything in his power to help others feel that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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